February the 14th:
The rain fell around us everywhere, softly at first then harder, louder.
The street now a haze of blurred, grey colours. The rain replaced my tears as I slowly turned to face him. That is how we met again since our old memories, in the rain.


2. Sweet

We walked until we could not bare it anymore, until Harry called us a taxi and we slid in it. We were wet and freezing, un-appealing to the taxi driver, but he took Harry's money. Harry muttered his address to him and sat down next to me. The heater was on inside the cab, the heat unfamiliar to me. It was a long time since I had felt almost this warm, and I was still freezing from my dripping clothes. We would leave the cab's backseat all wet, and somehow, even after all I'd been through, I felt bad. All you would need is a dry cloth to dry it down, but I felt as if I had committed a crime. Broken, I was, confused. Angry, distraught, sad, effected. Would I ever forget about this? What it felt to be cold, hungry and weak? Or will I change? Adapt to my new life with Harry? I knew Harry would not leave me, I know him well and that fame and money wouldn't change the real Harry. The taxi pulled up a street, I could tell we were almost there. I'd never been in this street, a wealthy part of London. We stopped in front of a giant house. Had Harry been living here all this time? I wasn't too surprised at how big and grand this house appeared to be. This was Harry Style's house. The name definitely sounded familiar to me, but not in the way it would to other's. I didn't think of him as famous, popular, world-known. I just thought of him as my Harry, the familiar sweet, cheerful but broken old boyfriend of mine. We pulled out of the taxi and walked up his driveway. The driver peered at us strangely, probably surprised to see the house, wandering if we owned it. From here I could see that instead of the cream colour that I thought it was, it was a startling white. The sky was still grey, it was still raining. Harry tried to pull me up and run towards the house, but I was too weak to do anything but walk. My muscles ached, every part of me hurt, but I kept walking until we reached the door. Harry felt his pockets for the key that would open the door. We stepped inside and I was so tired that I didn't think about the warmness of the house, or that there would be food, I just slumped down on the floor because it seemed like an alright place to sleep, but Harry picked me up and carried me up the stairs, lay me on a warm bed. 


That's all I remember from last night.


When I awoke, I was unsure of where I was. I looked around, and then of course, remembered. I sat up slowly, and peered around the sunny room. Someone had opened the curtains, and I could smell something cooking downstairs. I got up and slowly walked down the stairs, following the smell. Pancakes. I've had pancakes only once in my life, at Harry's house when I was a child. I remember the taste of them, they were just plain by them selves, but they were heavenly. As I walked into the kitchen I saw Harry pulling out ice cream from the freezer, then maple syrup and punnets of berries from the fridge. He looked up, glanced at me the smiled wide. "You need food," he said suddenly. "Pancakes, for me?" I tried to smile back. Harry just nodded his head and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. "Angela!' He called out and I looked up at him with a confused face. Just then, a middle-aged lady with long red hair pulled into a thick bun walked in, wearing an apron. "Grace, this is Angela, my maid," He motioned to her. She greeted me and peered at my dirty clothes, but knew not to question. "Could you please finish this off for me?, I need to help Grace with something," He said kindly to the maid, and then walked over to me. We walked upstairs and he told me I should probably have a shower if I wanted. He showed me the bathroom that I should take a shower in and picked out a towel for me. He told me that he had no clothes that I could wear but gave me a bathrobe and a big T-shirt of his. I didn't mind, I didn't care about what I wore too much. It was so warm in the house that I could wear nothing at all, but of course I wouldn't. I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Wow. I hadn't had a shower for years. I ran the hot water and let the steam fill the room. I undressed, got in and scrubbed my whole body until it felt red and raw. All Harry had was some expensive-looking men's shower wash and some shampoo and other soapy things that smelt like the rich smell of aftershave. I washed my hair with the strange concoctions, then decided I would probably have to get out. I stepped out and stared at myself in the mirror, fully naked. What had I become? This body of mine seemed unfamiliar. I was skin and bones, no muscle, not much fat at all. I quickly covered myself up in a towel, not wanting to see it anymore. Instead, I just stared up close and looked at my face. I had dark green eyes and thick, dark brown hair. I found tweezers and plucked my eyebrows, a skill I remembered. I had started to grow a monobrow and I almost laughed. I slipped Harry's shirt on and was glad that it seemed to fall down my body like a nightie. Which made sense; I was tiny. I hang my towel up and put everything back where it came from, then I walked slowly and shyly down the stairs to find the kitchen. Angela,  the maid, was putting pancakes down on the marble bench and Harry sat on a stool there, chatting to her. Angela had a thick Italian accent but seemed to know English very well. Harry looked up and me and smiled sweetly. He gestured for me to sit down next to him and I did. The silver metal stool was cold under my legs but I wasn't complaining; I had a whole plate of pancakes in front of me. Harry leaned over and kissed my cheek. His lips were warm, and suddenly I was scared, scared for no reason. I knew Harry would never hurt me, but somehow I didn't want to be left alone with him. He sniffed my hair and laughed "you smell like men's perfume," he said, and I felt foolish but tried to laugh with him. I inspected my pancakes, which were served with ice-cream, what smelt like maple syrup and various types of fruit, chopped up delicately. I glared at Harry, unsure, and he laughed again and told me to dig in. Angela asked me what I would like to drink and I shyly asked for some water. She smiled at me like I was a shy little girl, which I probably appeared as. She poured it from the fridge and put a few ice cubes into it, my mouth watering for clear, cool, clean water. I sipped and all down and thanked her. My throat had felt dry before this. I ate all my pancakes quite quickly, I tried to eat normally but I couldn't help it. They were the best things I had ever eaten in a while. This morning had sure been sweet.

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